


So One Night... [Meg the Baker]

by biscuit_tin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuit_tin/pseuds/biscuit_tin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Meg seemed mildly amused at Dean’s discomfort, he chose to ignore her for the sake of cinnamon streusel, almond cream and sweet-tart apples baked into a flaky cornmeal crust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So One Night... [Meg the Baker]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Coffeehouse Cat AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462558) by [kayliemalinza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza). 



> Meg the Baker was inspired by kayliemalinza's Coffeehouse Cat AU and discussions over on tumblr, and my strong belief that Meg would be a wonderful baker (she has the personality for it, at least).

# So One Night...

# 

(Meg the Baker - Inspired by Coffeehouse Cat AU by kayliemalinza)

 

Anna sends Dean over to the bakeshop door with a carafe of fresh pressed, slightly over-roasted coffee (because that’s how meg likes it). Dean doesn’t want to be in the bakery, doesn’t quite feel comfortable there because for some reason everything around Meg feels like more. She’s making red velvet cake as he slides in through the door and already he can see that as she pours the buttermilk and red color into the mixing bowl, that somehow it looks more intensely red and shiny, more like marbled steak and less (and less and less) like buttermilk and food color as she slowly, with more patience than she’d ever show a customer, incorporates it into the batter. It’s uncomfortably mesmerizing. Meg looks up after that, acknowledges Dean’s presence, and despite not wanting to linger overmuch he hangs around because Meg thanked him for coffee with a slice of almond-apple crumb pie, still a bit warm. If Meg seemed mildly amused at Dean’s discomfort, he chose to ignore her for the sake of cinnamon streusel, almond cream and sweet-tart apples baked into a flaky cornmeal crust.

 

Meg begins scooping the cake batter into fluted muffin cups and Dean is suddenly unnerved because the soft scraping of metal on metal has never sounded to him quite like pigs squealing in the distance before now, and he shudders when he feels Meg’s sidelong gaze on him as he leaves, smiling secretly as if she knows what’s making him so nervous (and of course she does).

 

Later, as Dean falls into bed and into fitful repose, somehow still able to hear the far off squealing in his bones, though his room is over the cafe not the bakery, he dreams strange dreams. Some place - a beach, an island; with salty smells dusking breezes and water clear and electric blue stretching forever. A beautiful woman who is also something else, beckoning to him - and all the time, pig squealing in the distance far off somewhere and Dean is torn, he wants to run but he can’t move, and there’s nowhere to go unless he wants to swim and that strange woman-but-not is coming closer, the squealing is louder and Enough. You’re such a pain. Not quite words or thoughts, but Dean is suddenly awake, sitting up in bed much earlier than he’d like.

 

Later Dean follows his nose down to the bakery for breakfast, not quite as unnerving with morning sunlight and the sounds of people bustling in and out of the front shop. His shift at the coffee shop doesn’t start for a while yet, but he swings by and picks up two coffees to go before sliding in to the bakery through the back door. Meg, just pulling a batch of something round and puffy (and wonderful smelling) out of the oven accepts the offered cup as greeting. Dean’s stomach rumbles as she wordlessly offers him a large warm roll, something fragrant oozing out of the slits on the top as he bites into it.

 

“You like it? It’s a curried Peach Pork Bun”

 

Dean chokes on a second hot mouthful; Meg reaches over and thumps him smartly on the back once or twice as he chokes down some coffee.

 

“Pork - Like, as in pigs?” Dean asks, coughing. “Yes, pigs.” Small scratches and a morose meow at the back door - Meg rolls her eyes, splits another bun in half with her thumbs and opens the back door to a waiting cat in the alley. She feeds him one bun half, and snacks on the other before she continues. “A friend of mine has a pig farm. She delivered some extra product last night.”

 

Dean shivers involuntarily and gulps down his bun, trying not to think about what might be in it.

 

The cat meows seriously and meg bends down to scratch his head

 

“You’re such a pain.”

 

Dean rushes out the front counter entrance. Meg just laughs.


End file.
